


Synchronize the beat of our hearts

by Justafewthingstosay



Series: Let's say the ineffable [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff, I wrote this last chapter half asleep so if it sucks, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marriage invitation, Oh this is so much fluff, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, after the apocalypse, no beta we die like men, so much dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay/pseuds/Justafewthingstosay
Summary: Angels don't dance. We know that. We also know that a certain angel likes to bend the rules a bit.So when he and Crowley were asked to dance at Anathema's and Newton's wedding, there was no way that they could say no.If they only accepted to finally be close to the other, to finally hold them, then they didn't speak those thoughts aloud. But that doesn't mean that they didn't think them.





	1. The smell of Carnations

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a small thing, but if you know me, I normally don't keep the things short that should stay short. Therefore we are here now, 4000 words and later and around halfway done.

Heaven and Hell had laid off of them and Aziraphale started to get a little bored. Yes, of course, he was extremely happy that it all worked out rather splendidly, but without a job, Eternity could get boring. 

Well, Eternity alone would get boring. But he wasn’t alone. Crowley was always close but never close enough. Not for Aziraphale’s liking anyway. 

They did spend more time together now, dining at the Ritz, seeing one of their friend Will’s plays, there were so many things that occupied their time. 

And one of them came by mail to the bookshop one morning. Aziraphale had been dusting, when the letter fell on to small doormat. 

With a few quick strides, Aziraphale was at the door and picked up the envelope. He didn’t often get mail, not since telephones and smart phones had been invented. Before that, he had gotten an abundance of letters, mostly from authors that he had befriended, some poets, some playwrights and, even though he would never tell anyone this, some lovers. He used to keep them all, stuffed away in boxes, organised by year and person. That all changed with the invention of texting. Letters had gotten almost obsolete, except for banks and advertisers.

This letter didn’t look like one from a bank though. The paper was thick, cream white and ordained with small black flowers in the bottom right corner, just under the address. 

As he let his eyes glimpse over the address, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

_ To A & A. Crowley _

Whoever this was from obviously thought that they lived together. If Aziraphale had for a few moments just relished in the idea that someone on this earth thought they might live together, might even be a couple or married, then he would keep that his little secret. 

He carefully cut open the letter with a letter opener that Crowley had gifted him around two hundred years ago, the thick paper tearing just perfectly against the sharp blade. The blade set aside, he pulled out the sturdy cardstock. 

It was the same cream colour and on it, in black shimmering letters, adorned with beautifully drawn black roses stood the following: 

_ Together with their parents and all their ancestors _

_ Anathema Device  _

_ And  _

_ Newton Pulsifer  _

_ Request the pleasure of the company of Aziraphale and Anthony Crowley to celebrate their marriage at Bartley Lodge Hotel, Lyndhurst Rd, Cadman, Southampton. SO40 2NR, UK on Saturday, the 25th of August 2020 at 1:30 pm.  _

_ The reception will also be held at the Bartley Lodge Hotel. Accommodations are available.  _

_ R.S.V.P by the 30th of May 2020. _

Aziraphale’s entire face was painted in such a soft expression after reading the invitation that nothing could ever be compared to it. This soft expression fell from his face when he saw a small letter that still remained in the envelope. 

He pulled it out and this was different than the thick, proper cardstock that he was just handling. It was a normal piece of paper, on it words in soft handwriting that definitely belonged to Anathema. 

_ Hello you two!  _

_ I hope we don’t catch you off guard with this but we have a small request. In my family, there has been a tradition for multiple hundreds of years. On your wedding day, you dance the normal couple dance, but when the chorus starts playing, eight people join you on the dance floor. These people are to be considered the most important people in your life. And well, we both decided that not only did you two stop the literal Apocalypse with us, but we have also grown very fond of you over the last year. Therefore, we wanted to ask, if you may join us on the dance-  _

That was when Aziraphale dropped the letter, ran over to the telephone and dialled Crowley’s number without even thinking about it. He didn’t have to wait long until the demon drawled a sleepy “Morning Angel,” into the phone that was almost immediately cut off by Aziraphale saying: 

“Morning, my dear. Get to the bookshop at once, will you? Something happened. We need to talk about it. Now, Pip pip.”

With that he hung up, leaving a perfectly confused demon standing in his boxers at his desk, holding his landline in his hand. 

Crowley was dressed in seconds, Aziraphale had sounded worried over the phone and to be perfectly honest, Crowley was just a tad terrified. What if heaven had come back? What if Aziraphale could feel that something had changed in heaven? What if they were looking for them?

  
  


So Crowley grabbed his glasses and ran down to his Bentley, getting in and arriving at the bookshop precisely 7 minutes and 45 seconds later. Way quicker than it should have been possible, not with following the traffic laws at least. 

He threw the bookshop door open, prepared for the absolute worst, only to find the sun shining in through the windows, showing the small pieces of dust flying in the air. The sun hitting the angel from behind, illuminating his entire presence with an almost heavenly glow. 

He looked beautiful, Crowley thought. Something he would never admit to in front of Aziraphale of course. 

“Angel? What’s wrong?” 

That was when the other man turned to look at Crowley, a soft smile painting itself on his face. “Crowley, dear. Well, maybe you should read it for yourself.” He smiled out, walking over to Crowley, handing him the ornate invitation and the letter, walking back to his desk after he did so, bending over to write down something on a piece of paper. 

As Crowley's eyes flickered over the invitation his lips curled up slightly. He had never been invited to a wedding before, well never one that he could actually go to, due to most of them being in churches. 

He sat the invitation down and started reading the letter, his lips slowly losing the upwards curl. He also didn’t finish reading the letter, putting it down even earlier than Aziraphale.

For a short second, he didn’t say anything, until his mouth suddenly let out a small: “But I can’t dance.” 

Aziraphale turned to him slightly. “I can’t either, dear. Except when they let me dance the Gavotte, but I think that is rather against Anathema’s taste.” He turned back to the small paper on his desk. 

“Also, I picked chicken for you on their RSVP, I know you’re not a big fan of fish.”

“Thank you, Angel.” He mumbled absentmindedly. He didn’t even like to eat, but if he did, it was never fish. He just hated their texture. He thought while sitting down on a small chair that fit Aziraphale’s interior design but hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. 

“And we are one of their most important people?” Crowley asked, a little dumbfounded.

“Seems to be the case.” 

“And they think we are married and you took my last name, that is actually just my first name?” he whispered just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear. 

The angel turned red at the comment, not looking up from the letter he was writing. 

“I suppose so.” 

“Huh.” 

Aziraphale signed off the letter with an extravagant signature, letting the fountain pen roll out of his hand carefully after he capped it. “I just wrote our reply, explaining that we sadly can’t take them up on the offer, due to our sheer incompetence when it comes to the art of dancing.” 

Crowley scoffed and with a small snap of his finger, the letter was in his hands. His delicate fingers ripping it in half, while Aziraphale just stared at him, mouth agape and brows raised. 

“I’m not letting you tell those two that even though we had more time on this earth than anyone else we don’t know how to dance.” He moved over and sat down on the desk. “Also they sounded quite excited to have us in that tradition and we shouldn’t break their heart, right angel?” 

Of course, this wasn’t the reason why Crowley decided to rip the letter. Yes, some of it came with his pride, thinking that if they knew that he couldn’t dance he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Mostly though, it came from the idea of holding Aziraphale close to him, only them in a moment, accompanied by music, expressing everything that Crowley was too dumb to say. He imagined being twirled around by Aziraphale, their feet moving in perfect synchronisation, working together to accomplish perfect harmony. Something that was basically already their entire friendship. 

He would never know that Aziraphale thought of the same things when he said: “Well I suppose we can’t let them down, poor Anathema would hate us and I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

Crowley’s lips turned up, his eyebrows arching just a little, as he stuck out his hand towards the angel. “May I tempt you to learn how to dance with me, angel?” 

Aziraphale almost let out a soft snort at that. His eyes growing soft, his smile changing from careless to fond. If his eyes quickly slipped to look at Crowley’s lips as he took his hand to shake it, nobody would tell. 

“Temptation accomplished.” 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Dancing was hard. That was Aziraphale’s first thought when they showed up to their first dance lesson. They had chosen to learn a Waltz, mostly due to the fact that in all the marriages that Aziraphale had attended over the years, (and he had attended a lot, comes with being a creature of love after all), it was the one that was normally sought after when people asked for couple dances. 

The second thought that crowded Aziraphale's mind was that he wished they were learning the gavotte or anything else that didn’t force him to be this close to Crowley. Holding his hand in his, while his own hand settled on the small of Crowley’s back. It was too much. 

But it wasn’t just the physical contact, it was how Crowley understood the steps easily, moving with him gracefully, while Aziraphale stepped on the others toes more times than he could count.

This was inherently too much for him to handle, so when the dance instructor came over and adjusted their positions he was inherently grateful for her bickering. 

She moved their hands carefully, turning their heads. “You two keep staring at each other, that’s not what you do in a Waltz.” She called over the other instructor and they showed the two that their backs were supposed to be straight, Aziraphale’s hand wasn’t supposed to be on the small of Crowley’s back, but on his shoulder blade and that they should keep a bigger distance between their bodies. “A waltz is all about looking majestic. It’s not about the romantic appeal of holding your partner close to you, but more about the sheer beauty and elegance that moves you over the dance floor. Now, try again.”

With their positions adjusted, Aziraphale could actually get through the step patterns without stepping on Crowley’s feet, his eyes always trained behind Crowley instead of his eyes, that were obstructed by the sunglasses. It helped, to actually be handled around by their instructor. Otherwise, Aziraphale might have never been able to stop staring at Crowley while they danced and that just made dancing hard in a very different way. 

After that, they learned quickly, after about a month they managed to almost glide over the dance floor. Only now and again moving too fast or too slow for one another. 

It was after a rather good lesson that their instructor, Madame Seyleit came over to them. A proud smile on her face. “You two learn quickly, I’m honestly quite proud of you.” 

Madame Seyleit was a pretty short woman, but just from looking at her, you could tell that she had the muscles to beat up people twice her size. She carried herself with such grace and purpose that no matter where she was, she looked like she belonged. It looked like she was the one in charge. 

Crowley bowed his head at her compliment, actually flattered by her words. “Thank you very much, we try our best, don’t we, Angel?” 

As his head moved to the side to look at Aziraphale, who was smiling proudly and nodding along, he missed the way that Madame Seyliet smiled as she saw the two. 

“I’m rather glad that you are doing so well, and I-” she looked onto the floor for a second, clearing her throat. “I have a small favour to ask of you.” 

When both of them just smiled at her with expectancy in their eyes, she continued. “You see, we have an annual show, presenting what you can learn in our dance lessons and the two people we had for the Waltz can’t make it, because Catherine got pregnant. So I wanted to ask you two if you would mind learning a choreography and presenting it at the show next month?” 

Her smile was careful, fragile. It was the smile of a woman begging these basically strangers to help her with something so important to her that they would probably never understand. 

Before Aziraphale could even think about it, Crowley had already accepted. “Of course we can help.”

As they talked Aziraphale took to looking at Crowley’s face. Looking at the demon that was nice and kind, but would never admit it. The demon that would help out this woman that they barely knew, just because he knew that is what Aziraphale would want to do. 

Crowley was the only person, the only being that knew Aziraphale for what he really was. And Aziraphale was the only person that got to see the good that poured out of Crowley in waves so strong that even dams wouldn’t be able to contain it. 

“So, that seems like private lessons to me?” Crowley inquired. 

“Yes, you two would be taking over their Choreography to At Last by Etta James. It’s a wonderful one and you two would be perfect for it.”

And so, the two agreed. Not knowing what they were getting into. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


“Keep your head higher, Crowley.” Madame Seyleit cut in from the side and if Crowley didn’t have as much respect for the woman as he did, he would have left hours ago. Having Aziraphale guide him across the dance floor was also definitely a pro to the staying department. 

They had been practising for around two hours and if Crowley said that it was coming together easily, he would have been lying to himself. 

It wasn’t even the steps that were confusing or the choreography in general. It was the pure and utter irony that finally, after all these years, he had Aziraphale in his arms. Closer than they had ever really been before and this woman, this woman who thought that they were both humans. Not just humans, no she thought they were married. This woman had the audacity to play Etta James’ “At last” while they danced and every time Crowley let himself listen to the lyrics, he had the feeling he would combust. 

“Crowley!” came from the sidelines again, interrupting his thoughts and making him stumble over his own feet. 

“Shit,” he hissed out as he fell backwards, but before he could fall, Aziraphale caught him in a soft embrace. 

“No need to worry, I got you,” the angel smiled out as he pulled Crowley upright. 

Crowley’s face was slowly adjusting its colour to match his hair, seeing the tender smile on the angels face. That tender smile that Crowley so desperately wanted to kiss. So before he could do anything stupid, he pulled away. Thanking the angel for catching him, before he turned to Madame Seyleit. 

“Yes? You had a note?” he asked carefully. He wanted to do right by her, right by his angel. He just wanted to not fuck up, once in his life.

“Yes, dear. Your posture.” She smiled and walked over, putting a hand on the small of his back, guiding him back towards Aziraphale. 

She took the angels hands and placed them on Crowley, before pulling them off again. “Actually Aziraphale, would you be a dear and grab us some bottles of water from the front? You two must be horribly thirsty.” 

Aziraphale quickly nodded and made his exit and as soon as the door was closed Madame Seyleit looked back to Crowley. 

“Dear are you alright?” her voice was softer than it was when she barked orders at them. It was gentle, it was the kind of voice that you would use to speak to a baby bird. 

When he didn’t answer, she continued. “See, your posture, for some reason you are carrying yourself differently today. Normally you carry yourself, knowing that the whole world looks at you, and normally it looks as if that makes you the happiest person alive, so what is wrong today?” 

She moved closer to him and he turned his gaze to the floor. “See you can’t even look at me and normally you don’t have a problem with that either. Did something happen between you two?” 

Crowley shook his head with a soft smile. “No, nothing happened.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“You see,” he started, looking up and over her shoulder. “Even if the whole world is looking at me, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because he isn’t looking.” 

“Oh Crowley, dear.” She put her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “If you think he isn’t looking, then you aren’t paying attention.”

After that, Crowley’s posture never slacked again. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Nervous wasn’t even a word for how Aziraphale felt. Maybe anxious would fit better to his current situation, or maybe tense. Whatever the best word for it was, it felt bad. Very bad. 

It didn’t help that the person that normally helped him through his anxiousness wasn’t here. Crowley was somewhere on the other side of the stage, hiding in the darkness beyond the bright stage lights. But he was there, somewhere. Aziraphale could feel him, feel the demonic presence that surrounded Crowley every second. He could smell the slightest hint of what one could describe as a burnt-out campfire. His presence was present in the smallest corners of Aziraphale’s mind, calming him in a way no human ever could. 

He watched the couple before perform a gorgeous salsa. They twisted and turned on the dancefloor in motions too quick for his brain to even comprehend, two people so in sync, that not even an earthquake could bring them out of their step routine. 

He prayed to everything that he ever held holy that Crowley and he wouldn’t fuck this up. They had practised too long and too hard for it to now go wrong. 

Just as he straightened his lapels the song of the previous couple ended, both of them shimmering with sweat but smiling from ear to ear. They had done a remarkable job, the angel let himself think before the anxiety kicked back in. It was their turn now, their turn to show what Madame Seyleit had been trying to teach them for two months. 

He took one final deep breath and walked to his starting position. He didn’t dare look over towards Crowley, he would only freak himself out more. 

So when Madame Seyleit walked onto the stage and announced them, his heart fell down, out of his body and onto the stage. Only metaphorically of course, just because he didn’t need a heart, didn’t mean he had to be impolite. 

The violins started playing and Aziraphale’s body moved on instinct, his feet carrying him over the stage just like the thousands of times before. 

And oh, he was lucky that his body knew what to do because when he saw Crowley his brain stopped working. 

The demon before him, who was mirroring his actions perfectly was wearing a deep black dress. It was tight around his upper body but spread out downward. The edges of the dress were a deep red, a perfect match to Crowley's hair, that he had miracled long for their performance. His curls falling over his shoulders and framing his face.

His beautiful eyes were obstructed by his usual glasses, which was the only thing that was so normal and familiar about the demon, that it calmed Aziraphale's mind immediately. 

He twirled Crowley in, catching the demons other hand in his and he couldn’t stop himself before he whispered a soft. “You look stunning.” into the demon's ear before he twirled him out again. 

_ At last _

Their bodies moved on instinct, their muscles so used to the routine that they barely had anything to do with it. It felt almost like breathing, so natural, so normal. 

This close to Crowley, the presence in the angel's brain tuned out everything else. His entire mind was filled with the smell of smouldering embers, with the power that was hidden underneath that lean human body. 

But it wasn’t just fire that he could smell on Crowley. Crowley hadn’t smelt like a normal demon for years. His scent was interrupted by the smell of something, that Aziraphale couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

_ My love has come along _

He sent Crowley to twirl twice, before catching his hand and pulling him back to him in a fluid motion. That was when the smell hit him again and then he remembered it. 

He remembered how it had been all over him in 1892. He remembered the floral scent that reminded him of cloves, the scent that was almost a spicy floral. Carnations. Crowley smelt like carnations. He probably had smelt of carnations for centuries, but it was the first time that Aziraphale was close enough, perceptive enough to actually realise it. The first time he let himself realise it.

_ My lonely days are over _

At the line they separated again, Aziraphale letting go of Crowley’s hand and moving beside him as the demon turned once, twice and then once more. 

As Aziraphale walked beside Crowley, the scent wasn’t as strong and his entire body was begging to have him back in his arms. To have that scent fill his nostrils. 

Was this how Crowley felt? Aziraphale moving, his motivations twisting and turning every century, breaking so many rules but not the one that he needed him to break? 

Before he could follow that thought further, Crowley was back in his arms. The carnations in his nose and the fire in his brain. 

_ And life is like a song _

They twirled around faster, moving in perfect synch. At that moment, Aziraphale was happy that their dance required them to look away from one another, because at the words, those words by Etta James that he had heard a thousand times, he finally understood. 

He finally understood all the love songs. Of course, he knew that Crowley loved him, he could feel it, smell it, scent it. He was a being of love after all, but did Crowley know? 

Did he know how much Aziraphale loved him back? Did he understand that with every perfect harmony in every cheesy love song, Aziraphale’s mind filled with that campfire scent and the scent that he only now really pinpointed. 

Did Crowley understand that he didn’t save this world for the humans, but only for him? Did he understand that stopping the apocalypse had been an entirely selfish act on his part? Did he realise that Aziraphale only went against heaven because he didn’t want to have to fight the demon that he slowly had been falling in love with for thousands of years? 

  
  


_ At last the skies above are blue _

But were they? Where their clouds finally gone? Could Crowley see clearly? 

Had he ever seen the truth? 

He let go of Crowley’s hand, both of them, moving carefully, moving their arms in small wave-like motions before their hands found each other again. 

_ My heart was wrapped up clover the night I looked at you _

Their hands found each other, just like they had. Hundreds of times, over the span of six thousand years and then, suddenly thousands of times over the span of eleven years. They had grown so much closer. They had bled into each other, they always had. 

Crowley bringing out the demon in Aziraphale and Aziraphale bringing out the angel in Crowley. 

_ I found a dream that I could speak to _

Wasn’t that just what Crowley was to him? The angel asked himself, stealing a glance at the demon in his arms, the red hair reflecting the lights. The copper in it almost blinding the angel. 

But that wasn’t the only blinding thing about Crowley. The most breathtaking, the most blinding was the soft, careless smile that the demon was wearing. He looked at peace. 

Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time that Crowley had looked to carefree. So vulnerable. 

It hit him at that moment, Crowley was everything he had ever wanted. He was his dream come true. His dream that he could speak to. 

_ A dream that I can call my own _

The angel's smile faltered slightly. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t know if he could call Crowley his. They had never talked about it. Aziraphale had never really considered talking about it before. 

_ I found a thrill to press my cheek to _

Aziraphale’s motion stayed the same, but they had turned sad, had turned confused. The smell of carnations was still plaguing his mind. Holding him close, keeping his mind from wandering to anything other than the demon that he loved. 

_ A thrill I've never known _

Aziraphale turned Crowley into his arms again, swaying from side to side until the demon let himself fall, Aziraphale holding him and spinning them carefully. 

You smiled, you smiled oh and then the spell was cast

Aziraphale tried to remember, tried to pinpoint when he first smelled the carnations. They had a distinct smell, so it didn’t take him long to remember. 

The wall. Eden. The smell had been faint back then, a single flower beginning to blossom, but it was there. It had always been there. 

_ And here we are in Heaven _

Aziraphale guided Crowley back onto his feet, and for the first time, since they started to dance, he met his eyes. He could see the faint yellow glow behind the glasses. 

And as he left a soft smile curve his lips, the smell of carnations became the only thing that he could smell. 

It brought back memories, ancient Greece, the Virgin Mary, and most recently Oscar Wilde. 

It was the smell of undying love. 

_ For you are mine at last _

He twirled Crowley one last time. Regretting that the dance was over so quickly. 

But as the crowd applauded and Crowley took his hand to bow and then guide him off stage, the smell of carnations stayed. Faint, but there. 

It had always been there. 

Wherever Crowley was, the smell was close behind. A constant companion. 

A companion that Aziraphale had begun to love. 

And he wasn’t talking about the flowers. 

But he could never tell his demon. He couldn’t risk losing him. He couldn’t risk losing his dream. So he kept quiet, enjoying the carnations in silence. 

Knowing what they meant, but being too afraid to actually confirm his suspicion. By all means, the smell could be coming from him. Did Crowley even know what Carnations mean? 

Had he ever worn a green one in his buttonhole? Or was this all wishful thinking on the angels part? 

He would never know unless he asked, but sometimes living in uncertainty, was better than living with pain.

Only because you know someone loves you, doesn’t mean they love you in the same sense as you loved them. What if Crowley loved him in a different sense? 

That’s what the Greeks had been going on about right? Different kinds of love. What if Aziraphale had fallen, in such a different sense, that he didn’t notice that Crowley had only stumbled? 

No, he would rather be in pain, being able to be close to his demon, than potentially messing this up. 

He could deal with an eternity of pining, he couldn’t deal with an eternity without Crowley. 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. The colour makes the flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding, a flower exchange and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so fucking long, holy shit!  
>  Also, I'm gonna make a spotify playlist for this fic, just you wait! 
> 
> I'm so thankful for everyone that came back for chapter two!   
> Chapter 3 coming soon!

They had arrived a day earlier than everyone else. Newt and Anathema had asked them to and they couldn't really think of a reason not to. So when the Bentley drove itself onto the parking lot in front of the hotel, the angel and the demon were both a little more nervous than they had to be. 

The pebbles of the parking lot crunched under their feet, as both of them stepped out of the Bentley, Crowley making his way to the trunk to grab Aziraphale's suitcase, which he had only taken with him after a little convincing of its owner.

"Why do you need a suitcase, Angel? You can just miracle your clothes on." Crowley had sighed, his feet on Aziraphale's small coffee table in the bookshop. He wasn't actually annoyed, not about the suitcase at least. It was just so unnecessary for an angel to bring actual clothes with him, but he was only going to mildly complain. He did like that the angel enjoyed owning things, taking care of them and making sure that they were in tip-top condition. 

For a split second the thought of Aziraphale taking care of him shot through his mind, but he quickly send it away, into the deep hell that were his repressed emotions. 

"I got a new suit for the wedding, you know how uncomfortable I get in miracled clothing." The angel had only replied, setting the suitcase down next to Crowley, obviously expecting the demon to carry it to the car. "I thought I might go for something a little different this time, it is a special occasion after all," the angel smiled out, looking right through Crowley's sunglasses into his eyes, that just decided to do a demonstrative roll in their sockets. 

"Sure, Angel," Crowley stood up, taking the suitcase by its handle and walking towards the door. "Can we head out then?" he asked, hand on the handle. 

"Oh, oh yes." Aziraphale had walked over to him, smiled when Crowley held the door open for him and made his way outside. 

So that was how they ended up in front of a large red-brick coloured Lodge. The brick over the main entrance was overgrown in vines, a few red blossoms peeking through the green. 

As they made their way through the glass door, Crowley carrying Aziraphale's suitcase, they were greeted by a large, bright foyer. A short, brunette woman standing behind an impressive counter, smiling happily at the two of them. 

"Welcome to Bartley Lodge, you must be Aziraphale and Crowley. Miss Device is awaiting you on the terrace." On her last words, she pointed to a large glassdoor, leading to a lush garden. She had a soft voice and a friendly face, a few hairs that were falling out of her bun framing her face, making her look more inviting. 

"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale smiled out. He was already moving towards the door as Crowley spoke up. 

"Would you mind giving us the keys to our rooms, please? So I can drop this off at his room." At the word this, he lifted the suitcase in his hand. 

The woman gave an almost worried smile as she said: "Ms Device has your keys, Sir. She said you two would be sharing a room, so we only made one reservation. But if you want separate ones, I can find a way to make that happen." 

At that Aziraphale shook his head. "That won't be needed dear, we don't want to cause you any trouble."

After the words left his mouth, he opened up the door and moved onto the terrasse. Crowley quickly followed after. 

The terrasse opened up into a large garden, rose bushes in all sorts of colours were blooming around them, as they made their way through the neatly arranged tables, towards one in the back, where Anathema was writing something in a small notebook. 

She looked up as they approached, standing up to wrap each of them in a small hug, before motioning to the two chairs across from her. 

"It's wonderful to see you two again," she smiled out, picking up the pen again to continue her notes. "I hope you two have been doing well?" 

Aziraphale smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, dear. We have. The bookshop is doing great and we've been able to spend more time with one another, now that our head offices have laid off."

He knew that there was no point in lying to the young women, he knew that she could see their auras, their auras that were so distinctly inhuman, that even a terrible with would have been able to tell. 

She relaxed at his words, her smile becoming softer and her shoulders dropping. "I'm very happy to hear that.-" she said, moving to lean back in her chair, to pull up her bag, grabbing something and handing it to them. "So, but I got you here early for a reason. First of all," she pulled out a room key and put it on the table. 

"-This is your room key. I took the liberty of checking you in to get you one of the nicer rooms before my family comes here and takes all the best ones." 

Crowley took the key and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, that's very nice of you."

She waved it off and pulled out two more things. They were small boxes, but velvet and black. 

"Newt had the idea of giving all those that helped stop the apocalypse something to remember that day by, so here you go." 

She pushed the boxes into their hands, sitting back, resting her head on her hands. Waiting for them to open them. 

Crowley opened his first, and in the box was a silver bracelet fashioned after a snake. He put in on, marvelling on the detail that the bracelet was crafted with. The eyes were made of gold and for a second it reminded him of his own. 

"I-" he started, taking off his sunglasses. "I don't know what to say, Anathema." He smiled at her, caressing the metal scales on the bracelet with one long finger. "Thank you."

She just nodded and looked over to Aziraphale, who carefully opened the box. Inside was a heavy gold pocket watch, it looked similar to the one that he already had, but instead of a lonely angel on the cartouche. There was an angel, holding an apple. 

But that wasn't the only thing the angel had about him, Aziraphale noticed. Around the neck of the angel, leaning towards the apple was a snake. 

It was a depiction of Eden, but instead of fighting, the angel and the serpent worked together. A picture of Crowley's and his bond. 

He wasn't able to tear his eyes from it when he thanked the young woman for it. 

The new pocket watch replaced his old one a few seconds later. 

And while Anathema and Crowley caught up, a realisation hit Aziraphale. 

He wasn't alone anymore. Heaven didn't control him anymore. He was able to actually do the things that he wanted. 

While he thought about that, his eyes caught a glimpse of the way Crowley's hair shimmered in the sun, the demon let out a soft laugh at something the witch said and then a thought crossed Aziraphale's mind. 

This was worth saving the world for, just to hear him laugh once more. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


They retired to their room at around ten pm, they, well Aziraphale had shared the meal, but both of them had shared their time with the soon to be weds and their families. 

Seeing both of them interact with their respective families had really driven the point of how different they were home once again. Anathema's mother and aunt, her father had left them years ago, kept calling her the chosen one. Which was just slightly strange, due to the reason that the apocalypse was averted. The chosen part was over. 

Newt's mother was a lovely lady but just as anxious if not more than her son, which made it a weird mixture. 

Anathema's highly self-confident family and Newt's, well, not so much.

But the way that Anathema and Newt had looked at each other throughout the evening, Aziraphale could tell the two really loved each other. He could feel the love waving off of them, the sweet scent of sunflowers filling the room whenever they were together. 

When they retired to their room though, they noticed one thing. There was only one bed. This wasn't really a problem, per se. Aziraphale didn't really like to sleep anyways, but it was just another nudge telling them, that people perceive them more as a couple than ‘adversaries', or how Crowley liked to call it, lifelong friends. 

Crowley carefully set Aziraphale's suitcase down on one side of the bed, moving over to the other side and dropping his jacket onto a chair standing there. 

"I'm gonna take the right side of the bed if you don't mind. I don't think you would, considering your entire lack of interest in sleep," he almost yawned out.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley didn't need to yawn, but it helped get his corporeal body into the mindset of sleeping. 

"Thank you, my dear. I brought some books with me if you don't mind me reading while you sleep."

Crowley shook his head. "Nope, don't mind at all. Knock yourself out, Angel. As long as you wake me on time." 

The angel watched the demon snap his fingers, his clothes changing from the normal black into some boxers and an old Queen shirt. 

To see Crowley in something that wasn't his usual attire was weirdly comforting while also being strangely uncomfortable. The angel had the feeling that he was disrupting Crowley's personal space or comfort zone, but at the same time, the demon had changed in front of him willingly, so it must be okay for Crowley, right? 

That's at least what Aziraphale hoped, as he watched the demon climb under the thick comforter, the white sheets contrasting his hair. 

He looked beautiful. He was also saying something that Aziraphale had paid zero attention to. 

"Angel? Are you with me?" the demon asked, waving his hand in front of his own face, hoping that that would get the angel to snap out of it, without the demon having to move. 

Aziraphale shook his head quickly. Coming back to himself. "Yes, dear boy?" 

Crowley tried to hide the smile, but Aziraphale caught the soft upturn of his lips. "I said if you want to read you can sit down on the bed, I don't mind. I only need one side anyway."

The angel started at that. Could he really? He wasn't sure if he could trust himself if he was so close to Crowley, his hands so close to his hair, begging to touch but not allowing themselves to. 

No, he probably shouldn't, he wouldn't be able to survive the intimacy, the closeness. So why he snapped his fingers, putting on his pyjamas, and slowly sitting down on the bed next to Crowley was beyond him. 

As the demon turned off his light and muttered a small "Goodnight, Angel", Aziraphales heart broke. He yearned for the tenderness in Crowley's voice. His entire body begged to lay down next to him, pulling him into his arms and sleeping next to him in a tight embrace like the ones he saw in movies, the ones that were described in his books. 

He tried to read, starting the same sentence over and over again, never coming far due to the soft breathing that came from the demon beside him. The occasional quiet snore. So when he was sure that (his) THE demon was asleep, he put his book down and watched him. 

He looked more peaceful than Aziraphale had ever seen him, even when Crowley was drunk, he was always on high alert in some way, always waiting for something bad to happen that never came. 

So to see him, a soft smile on his face, slowly breathing, at peace with the world, was something that Aziraphale could hardly get enough off, even though he felt a little awkward, watching his best friend in such a vulnerable state. 

He wished, no basically prayed to the Almighty herself that this was the first night of many, that he would be able to watch Crowley sleep beside him for the rest of eternity, but that wasn't the case. He only was allowed to do so tonight, so he tried to commit the entire moment to memory. The freckles on Crowley's face, the way his hair looked against the sheets. The small movements that his eyes made behind the eyelids, dreaming of something that Aziraphale didn't know.

It was a moment of absolute serenity. One that Aziraphale would remember and treasure for the rest of his immortal life. 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


Crowley was woken up by Aziraphale standing next to the bed and softly shaking his shoulder.

"Crowley, my dear. I know how much you love sleeping, but I did have to wake you. There's only around an hour left until the ceremony starts and well," Aziraphale fidgeted with his hands. "I did want you to have enough time to get ready." 

The demon yawned loudly, stretching his arms over his head while doing so, before opening his eyes to actually take the angel in. 

Aziraphale was wearing a black, tailored suit, a crisp white shirt underneath. It was strange to see him in such dark colours. But that wasn't the only unusual thing, the angel was also not wearing a tie or bow tie. 

He got out of the bed slowly, his limbs still tired as he sat down on the side of the bed and watched the angel walk back to his suitcase before he started fussing with something in it. Crowley paid it no mind, as he walked past the Angel into the bathroom, undressing and stepping into the shower, to help with the sleepiness that was holding him down like a metaphorical blanket. 

The shower was short, but it woke him up well enough. It wasn't like he needed to shower, he could just miracle himself clean, but it was a thing he started to like. The hot water cascading down his skin, hot enough to almost simulate a hug from a certain angel, not that he ever imagined how it would feel to just wrap the angel up in his arms, holding him close until that ache in his lungs passed.

He could never ask Aziraphale to hold him when his nightmares plagued him, so he opted out for the next best thing. Scorching hot showers. 

He stepped out onto the rug on the floor, snapped his fingers, drying his hair and body with the miracle, and using another to put on the clothes that he had planned for today. He was wearing tight black suit pants, a white blazer with a white undershirt and a black tie, that had an intricate silver pattern on it. 

If you got close enough to it, you would be able to see that the pattern was made up out of hundreds of thinly lined drawings of feathers. 

He looked at himself, running his hand through his hair a few times before he deemed it acceptable and walked out of the bathroom, only to be greeted by an almost panicked Aziraphale, who kept redoing his bow tie, over and over again while staring at himself in the mirror. 

It was a deep red colour, complementing the dark suit and his soft curls nicely and Crowley took a few seconds just to take in the scene. 

When the angel undid his bow tie once more, Crowley sighed softly and walked over, pushing down the angel's hands, before putting his hands on the bowtie, tying it with quick fingers. 

With the fabric in his hands, he saw the small a small golden snake pattern. He straightened the wings of the bow tie carefully. 

"There, now it's good." He whispered, making no move to back away. 

The silence was heavy on them, it was deafening and breathtaking. It felt like staying under a comforter for too long, the air getting stale and hot, breathing getting hard.

Crowley was unable to meet Aziraphale's eyes, instead deciding to let his eyes wander over Aziraphales face. Over his cheeks, his hairline, his lips that looked like the strongest temptation Crowley had ever seen. But instead of doing anything, he kept his distance. 

"Black really suits you," Crowley whispered out, afraid to break the fragile moment of intimacy. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and smiled. "And white suits you." 

Crowley gave a slight nod, his head twitching to the side. "I like the bow tie, ‘s got a nice pattern." 

Aziraphale didn't take his eyes off Crowley's face, but moved one of his hands up, carefully touching it. "Thank you, I thought you might like it." 

"I do, I do."

They stood there for approximately ten more seconds, but it felt more like six thousand years until Crowley's phone suddenly blasted a terribly annoying sound through the small hotel room. Breaking the quiet, both of them moving away from each other in a flash.

"Oh that's my timer for the ceremony, we should start heading out. It's going to start in fifteen minutes and this is the first real wedding I can actually attend, so I want good seats." He said, with a tad more confidence than he actually felt. 

With a small nod, Aziraphale and he made their way out of the hotel room, leaving behind the tension, but not the memory. 

They couldn't leave that moment behind, not the almost. The almost something that they couldn't even explain. They didn't even know what almost happened, but it almost did and that's all that matters. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


The ceremony was supposed to happen under the trees at the back end of the garden, between rose bushes of all varieties and with a lovely bit of shade. 

White chairs were standing in front of a white arch that was decorated with red and white roses. 

It was all rather lovely, the weather was warm, but not too hot. There was not a single cloud in the sky and when the sun got a little too much, there was a convenient breeze. If Crowley had something to do with that, he didn't mention it. 

The ceremony was short but very sweet. Crowley wanted to do a bet in the beginning, to see when Newton would start crying, neither of them had guessed it so early, so Madame Tracy, who was sitting next to them, and who had said: "The second she appears" won the money. 

Aziraphale had started to cry when they read their vows. It was a beautiful thing, Love.

And if Aziraphale had seen how Crowley had quickly moved his glasses to wipe away a tear or two, he wasn't going to say anything. The small problem of the ceremony appeared after Crowley had wiped away his tears, he had let his hand drop palm up onto his thigh, not really thinking anything of it. Until a certain angel carefully put his hand into his, without a single word. 

For a second Crowley wanted to ask, but when he glanced over at the angel, who was smiling happily, he decided not to. 

If there was a part of him that never wanted Aziraphale to let go, that hoped that holding hands had been a more common occurrence over the last six thousand years, then he ignored that part at the moment, just relishing in the feeling of soft skin under his fingers. A solid warmth in his hand. 

Something that, if given the chance, he could definitely get used to.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


They found their names on small name cards on a table close to the dancefloor. This table, like all the others, had a beautiful arrangement of white and red carnations as a centrepiece, the flowers complimenting each others colour beautifully. 

They were sat with Shadwell and Madame Tracy, Anathema and Newt had planned it just like that so that both ‘couples' didn't have to sit with complete strangers. 

While they were waiting for everyone to settle down, Crowley noticed something. Most men at this wedding we're wearing flowers in their buttonholes, but both he and Aziraphale weren't. 

So he carefully took one of the white carnations out of the arrangement and scooted over to Aziraphale. Around them, the people were finding their seats, settling down and becoming quiet.

He didn't look at Aziraphale when he slowly moved the lapel of his suit jacket, to carefully tuck the flower into the buttonhole, if he had, he would have seen how red the angel had gotten, not really used to such close contact.

"There, now you fit in with the rest of them." He whispered while smoothing down the lapel that was already neatly smoothed down. 

Before the Angel could answer or do anything else, the demon had pulled away. The lights were dimmed and the newlyweds moved onto the dancefloor.

When Anathema and Newt put their hands into position, Crowley noticed something, the song that was starting to play was in the wrong tempo for a waltz. He noticed though, that it looked like a Nightclub Two Step, which they had done once or twice in their dancing lessons, so they wouldn't make complete fools of themselves. The only problem with a nightclub two-step was that it was a lot more intimate than a waltz, a lot more eye contact, something that Crowley normally didn't try to avoid per se, but something that tended to make his legs wobbly and his heart soar, so he hoped he wouldn't forget to move. 

It was a lovely guitar solo in the beginning, but Crowley couldn't appreciate it enough, because when the words started to play, he met eyes with Aziraphale, listening to the lyrics, because Anathema had told them their cue to start dancing with them. 

_ Every time our eyes meet _

_ This feeling inside me _

Crowley broke the eye contact for a few seconds to glance at the carnation, the white in strong contrast to Aziraphale's blazer. 

He didn't think that the angel knew what that flower meant, at least he hoped that he didn't. But Crowley had studied plants for a while now, he was always interested in gathering knowledge, so when the humans started to give each flower different meanings, he had learned them by heart. 

_ Is almost more than I can take  _

_ Baby, when you touch me _

"Pure love and good luck," he had read aloud so many years ago while looking at the white carnations that he had found in a small flower shop. 

He only bought them because the smell was one that so incredibly familiar to him in a sense, but he couldn't put his finger on why that was. He had the feeling that he was surrounded by the smell a lot, but could never find an actual source for it. 

Now, years and an almost apocalypse later, he had the feeling he had figured it out. Looking into pale blue eyes, he could smell them again, stronger than what the normal carnations around him would have been able to produce. 

It was the smell of his love for his angel. And if it was so strong that even he could smell it, then the angel must have picked up on it years ago, but why hadn't he done anything? It wasn't like Crowley could smell love, that was an angel thing only. At least Crowley thought so, but it seemed as if he had picked up a few things over the years with his angel. 

_ I can feel how much you love me _

_ And it blows me away  _

This was their cue. Crowley watched as the angel got out of his chair, three other couples also standing up in the process. 

They moved over to the far right side of the dance floor, where Newt had instructed them to stand yesterday. 

_ I've never been this close to anyone, or anything _

Crowley put his hands into Aziraphales and took a deep, carnation scented breath. 

_ I can hear your thoughts, I can see your dreams  _

The line faded out and that is when they started moving,

_ I don't know what you do what you do _

Their steps were careful but precise, even though it wasn't normal for them, but this time, they knew what they were doing. 

_ I'm so in love with you _

Aziraphale spun the demon, and while the demon spun, he could feel his angels eyes on his, never leaving him. Not even for a second. 

The smell of carnations growing stronger by the second. 

_ It just keeps getting better. _

And it had, they had grown closer and closer over the years, Crowley's need for closure, his search for familiarity being met by the angel. Finally, after years and years, Crowley thought, he could dance with his angel, hold him in his arms and neither Heaven nor Hell could take this moment away from him. 

This moment of song, flowers and deep, passionate love. 

_ I want to spend the rest of my life, with you by my side. _

"I wouldn't mind," Crowley let slip out of his mouth, he hadn't meant to whisper it out, not meant to let the words flow out of his mouth so tenderly, so careful.

"What?" the angel answered, not hearing what Crowley had said.

_ Forever and ever _

"Nothing, don't worry about it, Angel." 

_ Every little thing that you do _

Finding pleasure in the smallest of things, enjoying food and books to their extend. Loving humanity with such a passion that it rivalled Crowley's love for him. 

_ Baby, I'm amazed by you.  _

Crowley was, he was amazed by the stubborn angel. Amazed by his never-ending kindness, by his love for the smallest things, the smallest bug or fly. 

Crowley had once loved all of these things just as much as Aziraphale does, but with Aziraphale, it always felt natural, that loving everything wasn't hard for him, it was his deepest and most well-rooted instinct. 

That's why he shielded him from the rain, that's why he had let him stay after drunk fights they've had. It's why he hadn't killed Adam. 

_ The smell of your skin  _

Crowley knew what Aziraphale smelt like, you pick it up after hanging out with someone for 6000 years, he smells faintly of baked goods, of old books and of course, of carnations. 

Crowley wasn't sure if he actually smelt of carnations, but with Crowley's love all over him, he might as well. 

_ The taste of your lips _

Crowley looked at the angels' lips for a moment, looking at the faint lines, the colour. He had studied these lips thousands of times, but he had never been able to actually taste them. 

Not once in 6000 years had they dared to kiss each other and even with how much Crowley yearned for it, he wouldn't. Not if the angel didn't reciprocate his feelings. 

But it wasn't just that he was worried about the angel not feeling the same, no. What if he kissed the angel and it hurt him? What if he didn't like it? 

What if he kissed him and Heaven decided that that was it? What if he fell because of Crowley? 

No, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Even if it meant another 6000 words of watching, yearning, of hiding his feelings.

As long as Aziraphale was with him, he was alright. 

_ The way you whisper in the dark  _

Those words made Crowley smile, as he followed an intricate manoeuvre that Madame Seyleit had taught them early on. 

He knew that the singer probably meant whispers exchanged in bed, before going to sleep, but had had to think about the dark bookshop, both of them drinking and talking an intricate gibberish that only the other could really understand. 

They had come accustomed to the other while they took care of Warlock, their normally spaced out meetings suddenly became an every night thing, Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis spend the evenings eating together and drinking their brains out in Brother Francis' small cottage. 

Crowley had hated the look on Aziraphale, it looked strange, the teeth too big, the skin to irritated. It wasn't his angel, but at the same time, it was. 

His smile still lit up Crowley's world, the soft giggles that he sometimes let out, still filled his heart with something no one else could make him feel. Love. 

_ Your hair all around me,  _

_ Baby, you surround me _

That was something that Crowley could only partly agree on, for most of their time on this earth, they kept their distance, running into each other only on a few occasions, meeting in public; words were spoken in the midst of people so that their Head Offices wouldn't notice.

But it didn't matter how often they met in a century, Crowley had always silently begged for another. Just another subtle glance towards the angel, another brief touch of hands, he told himself, might be enough to fill the void that was inside of him. A void that could only be filled by the angel that was in front of him now. 

Every time he brought the angel to the bookshop, the times he drove home alone, the emptiness in his stomach grew bigger, stronger.

Who knew that emptiness could feel so heavy? 

_ Touch every place in my heart _

Oh, and the angel did, even if he didn't know. Every smile lit Crowley's heart up, every small endearment made him soar over the clouds, reminding him of the times that he flew around in heaven. 

Even if the angel didn't mean them in the way Crowley needed him too. He meant them in his own special friendship way and that was enough for Crowley. In the end, all that mattered was that the angel was beside him, it didn't matter if it was as a friend or a lover, as long as he was close, Crowley was going to manage. 

_ And it feels like the first time every time _

_ I want to spend the whole night in your eyes _

He dared to look at the angels' eyes at that moment. They weren't a single colour, not like most of the eyes in heaven, they were special. Just like his angel was special. His angel that was staring into his eyes, just as much as Crowley was staring at his. 

He was staring into the hazel eyes of the man in front of him. But they weren't really hazel, now where they? 

They were the colour of young tree bark, surrounded by a bright ring of blue. 

The hazel was interrupted by darker lines of brown, moving from his pupil towards the ring of blue. 

And in a moment of weird resemblance, Crowley recognised the colour scheme. The angels' eyes reminded him of the garden of Eden. Of the apple tree, standing tall and proud in the middle, the downfall of humanity. 

The same colours, arranged just a little differently, would then years later, be the downfall of the original temptation. The demon losing himself in those eyes for so long, that he only noticed that the song had played out when people started clapping. 

From how shocked Aziraphale looked, he had been just as lost, but in what Crowley didn't know. 

Even if someone would have told Crowley that Aziraphale had been lost in the eyes of the demon, only barely seeing the colour behind the shades, then Crowley wouldn't have believed them.

The angel had read so much poetry, so many words in his long life, but none could ever be strung together to combine all the love, hope and the amazement that Aziraphale felt towards the demon. 

The other couples separated, but they held onto each other for just a moment longer. Maybe a moment too long, but no one mentioned it. 

They made their way back to the table, where the angel stopped the demon from sitting with a soft touch on the shoulder.

When Crowley turned, he saw the angel holding a deep red carnation between his fingers. It was one from the arrangement on their table. 

"My dear, I couldn't help but notice that you aren't wearing a flower either," Aziraphale spoke softly as he moved the demons lapel, carefully inserting the deep red carnation into his buttonhole.

Deep love and affection, Crowley's brain reminded him. That was the meaning that the humans gave deep red carnations and Crowley almost short-circuited. 

"Thank you, angel. Now I fit in with the rest as well," Crowley managed to smile out, while the angel carefully rearranged the lapel. 

"You always fit in with them," the angel whispered and before the demon could ask for clarification, Madame Tracy came up to them.

"I'm sorry, darlings, but Aziraphale would you honour me with a dance, for old times sake?" she smiled, winking at the last part. 

The Angel snapped out of his gaze on the carnation to grin at her. "Of course." He took the hand she offered him, before turning to Crowley. "I hope you won't get too lonely, my dear." 

With those words he was gone, pulled onto the dancefloor by the older woman, who was astonishingly graceful on her feet and Crowley was left standing there, staring at the flower in his buttonhole. 

He didn't know if the Angel knew the meanings of flowers, but just in case he did, he tapped the flower with a long finger and the flower changed its colour. Just in case, Crowley thought. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Aziraphale laughed as he pulled Madame Tracy in on the last few notes of the song. The older woman grinning with delight.

"I didn't know you could dance so well, dear," Tracy smiled out, as they walked off the dance floor, slowly moving toward their shared table that was empty, Crowley obviously off either talking to someone or dancing as well. 

"Well, Crowley and I took classes to prepare, with a wonderful teacher. I learned a lot from her." he smiled. 

On the topic of Crowley Tracy leaned in a little bit. "How are things with him? Did you finally tell him?" 

The angels head jerked over to look at her in disbelief, but before he could even think of a lie or a question or anything that would change the topic, she closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. "I was in your head, dear. I know how you feel about him." 

Aziraphale looked away from her, scanning the crowd to find the demon in question. "I have not. I don't know how I could. What if he doesn't return my feelings?" 

Tracy only sighed at that. "Even a blind duck could tell that he is in love with you, Aziraphale. The love of you two is almost as heavy in the air as the smell of carnations." 

At those words, Aziraphale found Crowley, who was dancing with Anathema, twirling her with a relaxed and easy smile on his face. 

He watched them for about a moment until the eyes of the demon found his and the demon's smile grew into a grin. Aziraphale's mouth mirrored Crowley's and as the demon moved, the angels' eyes fell onto the flower that was in Crowley's buttonhole.

As he noticed the change in the flower, his hands started to shake. Did Crowley miracle it to be a different colour? He must have, but did he know? He couldn't, but why in someone's name would he change it if he didn't.

He must know, why else would the flower's deep red be gone, replaced by the one colour that Aziraphale wished that Crowley would one day wear. 

Green. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 3 is coming soon, but if you don't have enough of me until then, you can come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/justthingstbh)  
>  or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Justthingstbh)
> 
> Comments are my life source and also I love to hear if you liked it  
> Also here, have a small friend 🐍


	3. The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can't find the words yourself, get a little help from your friends.

It had been three days since they had gotten home from the wedding. Crowley had driven Aziraphale home and left without coming inside. 

Aziraphale had been worried that he did something wrong, that one of them overstepped the small line on which their friendship existed, so it was a wonderful surprise to him, when Crowley walked into the bookshop while he was taking inventory, a bottle of fine red wine in his hand and a smile on his lips. 

“Angel? Can I tempt you to some wine and maybe some take out food?” Crowley asked, sauntering inside, the blinds closing themselves the second he had closed the door. 

“Crowley!” The Angel smiled out, maybe just a tad too excited about the Demon’s presence. “I’m very tempted by the wine, but I already had dinner today, I met Tracy at a lovely small curry place today.” 

The dinner had been nice, even though Tracy had basically used the entire night to egg him on to tell Crowley how he felt. The third time that he had insisted that Crowley didn’t love him back, she had thrown a piece of her chicken tikka masala at him and that had shut him up. 

He had promised her to tell the Demon the next time that they met, but that could wait until he had a few bottles of wine in his system. 

The Demon walked past him to the small back room, dropping himself onto the couch. “How is she, by the way? Still going strong with the Sergeant?” 

Aziraphale followed the Demon, walking over to his old gramophone and putting Beethoven's 5 piano concerto, before moving to his big armchair and settling down. “Yes, they are doing surprisingly well, my dear. A bit of an unlikely couple, but they are making it work as much as possible.” 

Two glasses appeared on the small coffee table between them when Crowley uncorked the bottle, filling both of their glasses generously. He handed one of them to the Angel and for a small second, their hands touched. Their fingers burned with electricity, but only for such a short moment, Crowley pulling back quickly as soon as he noticed that Aziraphale had a good grip on the glass. 

If the Angel had looked at the Demon during this small and almost insignificant interaction, he would have seen that it wasn’t small, nor insignificant. Crowley’s cheeks were dusted a soft pink and the eyes under his glasses were widened, Crowley thanking whoever once again for sunglasses. 

The Angel lifted his glass and smiled. “Well my dear, to the couples of the apocalypse.” 

Crowley smiled to hide the pain that he felt at those words. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for the others, no he absolutely was. But, after all those years of suffering, he thought he deserved some happiness of his own. 

He lifted his glass to meet the Angels and looked the Angel directly in the eyes as he said: “To the lovers.”

Their glasses clinked and both of them threw the wine down without much appreciation, trying to drown their feelings and their thoughts under the heavy blanket of drunkenness. 

Before an uncomfortable silence could form between them, the Angel started speaking. “So, what did you think of the wedding, my dear?” 

With a swift motion of his hand, the Demon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It wasn’t quite the ending that I expected when I delivered the antichrist, to be completely honest, but I’m glad that it did end like this.” 

“Well, I suppose all’s well that ends well, right dear?”

When Crowley looked at Aziraphale with almost a look of disappointment, he saw the shit-eating, self-satisfied grin on his face and the disappointment faded. He could only smile at the Angel, with a tenderness that was unmatched in this realm of reality, well almost unmatched. There was a certain Angel whose tenderness almost rivalled the Demons own. 

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t call this the end.” 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. “I would say that it is certainly the end of the apocalypse, my dear. And a happy ending at that.” 

“Angel, there is no such thing as a happy ending in life. Our lives aren’t plays after all.” 

“Our old friend would disagree, to Will ‘All the worlds a stage’” The Angel quoted, moving his wine glass dramatically, but the wine didn’t spill out, it didn’t dare to.

But Crowley grinned, if Aziraphale was going to talk in quotes, then Crowley would indulge him on it. 

“The world is a stage, but the play is badly cast.” He watched the others face, while he took a sip from his wine and saw how big Aziraphale’s smile had gotten. 

“I didn’t know that you read Oscar’s work,” Aziraphale whispered. 

“Oh Angel, after you talked about him so much, I just had to know what all the fuss is about. He truly was a good writer, I have to admit that.” Crowley said nonchalantly, but Aziraphale knew better.

Crowley went through the trouble of reading Oscar’s plays, knowing them well enough to quote them, just because he had talked about him. 

At the thought of Crowley reading the stories for Aziraphale’s sake, the small lock, that kept his emotions about the Demon contained, opened itself and fell, letting the emotions flow freely. And with the fall of the lock, the smell of carnations filled the bookshop, carefully, to not intrude, but it made itself clear, it was here to stay. 

In the same moment that the smell in the book shop changed to something more flowery, the Demon sat up, not properly, but as proper as he potentially could to refill his wine. Once he was finished with his glass, he motioned to the Angel, who held his glass closer so that it could be refilled. 

They stayed silent for a while, both of them nursing their drink and pretending to be listening to the music that was playing. Pretending is the right word to be used here, because if they had been listening, they would have noticed that through some miraculous instant, Beethoven wasn’t playing anymore, no. 

If they had been actually listening they would have noticed that a song by Edward Elgar was playing. Salut d’amour. 

But they didn’t notice, just like they were pretending not to notice the smell of carnations that was lying heavily in the room.

“Do you think people can be divided into good and bad, Crowley?” the Angel inquired after the silence had become too suffocating. 

“In the words of your old friend, It is absurd to divide people into good and bad, people are either charming or tedious.” Crowley was grinning, but his grin faltered when he looked at Aziraphale. 

The Angel's eyes were cast downwards, his fingers playing with the rim of his glass. On further inspection, he noticed that the Angel was trembling.

“Angel? Are you alright?” His words seemed to pull the Angel out of his trance. 

“I suppose so, my dear. I just-” The Angel looked upwards, purposefully directing his eyes away from the Demon. He waved his hand around for a short while, trying to gather the words that would help him explain his predicament, but coming up short. “I don’t know how to explain it.” 

Crowley would have been lying if he had said that he wasn’t intrigued, but he also didn’t want to pry. 

_You go too fast for me, Crowley._

No, he never wanted to bother the Angel about answers that he wasn’t ready to give ever again. 

He wanted to ask many things, ‘Can you also smell carnations?’, ‘Do you think that we can be happy?’, ‘Do you think you could ever love me back with the same amount of passion as I love you?’, ‘Did you finally get it?’, ‘When will you let me you in the way that you deserve?’. 

There were many questions that danced over Crowley’s snake-like tongue, but instead, he went for the simplest one. 

“More wine?” 

“More wine.” 

They went back to normal bickering after that, drinking around three bottles of wine each, so their spirits were high and their intellect low. 

“You see!” Crowley babbled, as Aziraphale got up, swaying lightly, to change the music. 

“See what?” the Angel mumbled back, before walking into the coffee table. “Shit!”

Crowley’s eyes widened, his jaw-dropping. “YOU SWORE! BAD ANGEL!” He laughed out, grinning from ear to ear until he was hit in the face with one of the pillows that were lying on the couch. 

The Angel put on some more classical music before swaying over to the couch and dropping himself next to the Demon, who handed the Angel a new full glass of wine. 

As Crowley leaned back, stroking a piece of hair out of his face, before taking another sip of his wine. Closing his eyes and licking his lips afterwards, the Angel couldn’t help but stare.

But staring would have been fine, what wasn’t fine, was that his mouth decided to betray him at that moment. 

“You represent all the sins that I have never had the courage to commit,” he whispered, watching that forked tongue slip back into the Demons mouth. It had been one of Oscar’s quotes, that he decided to change to fit the situation. 

The Demon on the other hand just looked back at the Angel. “Whot?” 

The Angel didn’t dignify that with a response, but what he didn’t know is that the Demon had heard and understood every word.

So the Demon moved closer, his confidence egged on by the drunkenness of his mind. “You know Angel, the only way to resist temptation is to yield it.” He grinned sappily at the Angel, who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at the other's lips. 

“Resist it,” Crowley continued, swaying his wine glass from side to side. “and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself,” he moved closer to the Angel, his face only about 10 centimetres away from the other. If there hadn’t been the smell of carnations so thick in the air, he might have been able to smell the Angel's breath. “with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful.”

Aziraphale wanted to look away, he really did, but there was no way in heaven or hell or earth that he could tear his eyes away from the Demon’s lips that so sinfully uttered the words of his old friend Oscar. 

Maybe, the words that the Demon spoke were true, and to test this, the Angel lifted his hand and softly put it on the Demons cheek. Carefully caressing the sharp collar bones with his thumb.

He felt the Demon’s breath stop and not start again, which would have worried him if he didn’t feel the same way. 

“Now I see the mystery of your loneliness,” he spoke quietly, staring into the Demons golden eyes. 

“How do you mean, Angel?” the Demon answered, a whisper so low, so breathless that it was almost inaudible. 

_Speak low, if you speak love._ Shakespeare had said, and he had been right. 

“All these years, people yearned for you, begged you to be with them. But you never did, and now I understand.” 

When the Demon didn’t answer, the Angel leaned closer, so that his mouth was next to the Demons ear. “You love me.” He whispered before leaning back to his original position so that he could stare into the Demons eyes.

“I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest,” the Demon quoted, but he didn’t just quote it. He meant it. 

Aziraphale eyes, the garden of Eden, met Crowley’s golden ones and at that moment Aziraphale noticed that they didn’t look Demonic, they looked heavenly. “Prove it.”

And the Demon did, he carefully leaned into the Angel's hand, that was still caressing his cheek before moving it, so he could move closer to the Angel, pressing his lips carefully against the others. 

The kiss had been so soft that it was barely even there, but it had been because Aziraphale could have sworn that even a human could have smelt the thick smell of carnations that was hanging in the room. 

But even the kiss so soft had felt so right. Their lips interlocking as if they had been made for each other as if they had been waiting all their lives for this one kiss. 

Crowley pulled back, his eyes staring into the Angels, they were a little widened and Aziraphale saw the Demon swallow, before he pulled Crowley back, kissing him with all the love that he was too terrified to show. But he didn’t need to show him, Crowley knew.

The kiss ended, and both of them were breathing heavily, smiling at the other with tender eyes and soft hearts.

“Would you say it?” Crowley suddenly asked, breaking the silence that was filled with the smell of their love and their breath.

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale said, cupping Crowley’s face with both of his hands. “I have been loving you for so long, I forgot when I started.” 

The Demons lips trembled for a second before the Angel caressed his cheek with his thumb. “You were always my one and only object of affection, my dear.” 

His eyes turned sad, looking away for a split second before meeting the Demons once more. “I’m just so happy that I finally have you.” 

After he said that, their lips met once more, almost as softly as the first time, but this time when they separated, Crowley moved downwards and put his head on the Angel's chest, humming contently. 

After six thousand long years, of loneliness, of yearning, of watching the other while not being allowed to tell them how much they meant to you, they finally had each other. 

“I love you,” Crowley mumbled while snuggling against the Angel.

“Say it again?” The Angel asked the Demon, as his hands drew lazy patterns on the Demons back. 

The Demon propped his head up, looking at the Angel with tired but loving eyes. “I love you, Angel.”

“Once more?” He asked with a soft, sheepish smile. A bit of hair fell into Crowley’s face and Aziraphale pushed it back into position. 

“I love you Aziraphale.” 

“I love you too, Crowley.” 

Crowley had fallen asleep about twenty minutes after their first kiss, clutching Aziraphale’s waistcoat with one hand, the other tangled around Aziraphale’s neck.

And even though the Angel hadn’t slept in centuries, he felt his eyelids getting heavy, slowly falling asleep. 

Feeling safe under his Demon, feeling content for the first time in centuries. 

Aziraphale woke up alone and for a second, a heartbreaking moment, he thought it had all been a dream. 

But then he saw the swaying hips of the Demon pass his view, placing his favourite mug on the coffee table next to the couch. Hot Cocoa steaming inside of it.

“Good morning, Angel.” Crowley smiled out, as he sat down on the small space that was left on the couch. “I hope you slept well. I didn’t actually know that you do that, I thought that was more of my thing.” 

Aziraphale raised his arms over his head and stretched, relieving the sore muscles from the night on the couch. “Would it be too cheesy to say that I couldn’t wait until you were awake again, so I tried to speed up time with sleeping as well?” He smiled, sitting up and kissing the Demon on the slowly reddening cheek. 

“Yes, very cheesy.” the Demon only answered, but just kissed the Angel back. 

They didn’t move for quite a while, just sat on the old dusty couch, talking about nothing and everything, while their hands got used to the other. Fingers carefully caressing cheeks, arms and backs, before they intertwined their hands, holding onto the other like their new life depended on it. 

Crowley was in the middle of a small rant about an older woman that he had seen the other day, who had insulted a young girl for wearing a rainbow shirt when Aziraphale smiled wide.

“Why are you smiling?” 

“Oh, I just love you, my dear. Your voice is like music to my ears.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes fondly, before snapping his fingers. On the miracle command, the old gramophone in the corner came to life, playing a soft piano tune.

The Demon stood up from the couch and reached out to the Angel. “May I ask for your hand in this dance?” 

Aziraphale chuckled before placing his hand into the Demon's hand. “Oh my dear, you already know that you have my hand in every way that there is.” 

_That certain night_

_The night we met_

They fell into the step pattern easily, holding each other closer now. More comfortable. 

_There was magic abroad in the air_

_There were angels dining at the Ritz_

“We should do that today,” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear and the Demon just smiled.

“That can be arranged, Angel.” 

_And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square_

And maybe there was a nightingale in Berkeley square while they danced, they would have no way of knowing or confirming that, but there is one thing they did know. There would be angels dining at the Ritz, there would be poetry nights and operas.

There would be birthdays of the Them, marriage anniversaries. 

And they would be there for all of them. 

They would be there.

Together. 

Together and for the first time in their long, long lives, they would be happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT! ITS DONE
> 
> This was supposed to be such a small idea and here we are. Around 13000 words later.   
> This got way out of hand!   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!! Please let me know if you did, if you didn't, well, you probably aren't reading this then 
> 
> Comments are my one and only life source, so if you wanna fuel me, you know what to do

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the beginning of it, please give me some feedback!  
> Or do you want to yell at me?  
> Either or, you can do both here on [Tumblr](https://justthingstbh.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Justthingstbh)
> 
> [ THERE'S FANART!!! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026396/chapters/47420536?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_241447381) Made by the absolutely amazing [ Lunathelittledragon! ](https://lunathelittledragon.tumblr.com/)   
> Give her a follow, she's amazing!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [At last [Fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026396) by [LunaTheLittleDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaTheLittleDragon/pseuds/LunaTheLittleDragon)




End file.
